Portland Sentinel Burns Tonight in St. Johns

After many years of scrappy struggle, drama and scattered mismanagement, the Portland Sentinel (formerly the St. Johns Sentinel and before that In and About St. Johns) is going down in flames tonight — literally. Having already closed shop on the print edition earlier this year and finally pulling the plug on the electronic version
on August 3rd (last stories were published July 31st), the Sentinel’s
publisher, (aging hipster, Cornelius Swart) is giving his pet project an
apt send-off — he’s burning the mutha down!

I’d heard of the Sentinel’s potential demise, from the publisher’s
own lips, years before. But Swart would not let the Sentinel go gentle
into that good night — he decided instead to rage. As Dylan Thomas put
it, “Rage against the dying of the light.” In that rage though, he
alienated some people that helped to make the Sentinel a success over
the years — including yours truly.

I started with the then, St. Johns Sentinel, in April of 2006,
though my first story (on the waterfront gentrification fears of St.
Helens residents) wouldn’t be published until May. As a rookie, I
shared a byline with Swart. For most of my tenure with the Sentinel, I
was guided and edited by Will Crow, a seasoned veteran journalist, who
now resides in Colorado Springs.

I spent four years with the Sentinel, working on a variety of
stories, from new business profiles and so-called fluff pieces to
community-focused stories that shook the very fiber of the 5th quadrant,
like the Chavez street renaming controversy. I was also the Sentinel’s
resident food critic and for a time, its Arts and Calendar Editor.

I wrote for the paper because I believed in it and the community it
served. It was (up until my pregnancy and the subsequent birth of my
child caused the publisher to doubt my commitment) a labor of love. I
was fiercely loyal to the mission of the Sentinel and the people of the
North Portland community, even finishing and filing some stories, (from
my hospital bed) after being admitted for complications caused by
preeclampsia.

In the end, it was a sour parting. One that I wish had been
different, for my own memories as well as for the legacy of the
Sentinel.

It has been over a year since I left the Sentinel and in that time
I’ve watched other local outlets (LivePDX.com, PDX Magazine) dissolve
as well. As these publications, struggled to try and stay solvent and relevant
in the age of Web 2.0, they were not alone. On a national scale, we lost
legendary zines like Gourmet, which closed after seven decades of
publishing and newspapers all over the country did what the Oregonian
did — downsized by buyouts and then finally by layoffs. It’s a
testament to the community that the Sentinel served, that it lasted as
long as it did, running on fumes.

Swart and I have not spoken since our final parting shots over a
year ago, but last night I received this email (as part of a mass
broadcast) from him. Since I haven’t seen any other outlets covering
this story, I though that somebody should. The death of the Sentinel and
the fact that this is happening in communities all over the country,
has been quite humbling for those of us striving to continue in this
industry. Its closure has meaning for us all.

Swart, too, seems a bit humbled by the Sentinel’s passing and now extends an olive branch to those he'smade “frenemies” of over the years,hoping
to "burn-off the bad mojo," along with 27,000 copies of the Sentinel.

Whether you want to mourn the Sentinel’s passing or dance on its grave,
the bonfire starts at 7pm tonight. Me? I may just do a little of both.

this is a special invite for you- Sentinel friends and frenemies
Come on down tomorrow for our Archive Bonfire and strange strange Death of Newspaper Ceremony

I’ve got close to 27,000 back issues of the Sentinel to burn.
I’m hoping the event will be one part farewell to the paper, one part
exorcism of bad mojo, and one part opportunity to thank folks in person
for helping make the Sentinel a part of the community.